I have good news. The days are getting longer. And if you think I mean that they only seem longer because it is so cold, you are mistaken. I know this because every day Manchild asks me what time the sun sets and what time it rises. We go to weather.com and check it out. And every day the sun sets one or two minutes later and rises one or two minutes earlier. Yesterday the sunset at 5:03. Today it was 5:04. Tomorrow it will be 5:05. Progress is progress.
We’ve been making progress in other areas as well: we’ve discovered we can run when it is colder than 20 degrees out. Both Micah and I went out on Saturday. He did about 8 miles and I did a little over 9.* (He had the disadvantage of having to get home so I could take Manchild to a birthday party; I had the advantage of having over an hour to kill while Manchild was at the birthday party, and the only thing to kill it with was a pair of running shoes.)
When I got home, we had a contest to see who had more layers. I had 6 on my torso and 3 on my legs. Micah had 5 on his torso and 4 on his legs, so it was a draw. We each had 3 on our feet, too: 2 pairs of socks and our shoes. Would you be disgusted if I told you we wore the same socks? If so, don’t read the next sentence. Micah took off the socks, let them dry on the radiator for a few minutes, then I took them and ran in them, too.
Micah got the losing end of a couple of things this weekend because aside from having to cut his run short, he also got to clean our room while I made delicious pizza. The upside (for him) is that I now am forever in his debt because our room feels about twice as big and we’re now 2 boxes away from being fully moved in. (Unless you count the pile of stuff that is now waiting to be taken to the thrift store some time in the next . . . 3 months.)
We also put together our first jigsaw puzzle as a couple on Saturday. It was a silent, but speedy, affair — completed in less than 2 hours and then promptly boxed back up and placed in the “to donate” pile. I assume it will be many more years before we do another.
And, finally, Manchild got his wish. He’s been pestering me for weeks to make Ratatouille’s ratatouille, so yesterday Micah and I (mostly Micah) put it together. And that is when Manchild realized that he should be careful what he wishes for. The six adults who ate it thought it was great. The two children wouldn’t touch it.
The moral of the story is that cold weekends can be good weekends. Hope yours was half as lovely, because even if it was just half, it would have been lovely indeed.
*In case you’ve been wondering, the widget on the left sidebar that tracks the latest runs is for both of us. Any runs that average sub-7:00 miles are Micah’s. I’m not that quick.